


I Gloat a Bit

by Daisy_Rivers



Series: These Fall-in-Loves [2]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda (Broadway Cast) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Established Relationship, F/M, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-01
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-12-22 09:59:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11965044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daisy_Rivers/pseuds/Daisy_Rivers
Summary: You and Rafael disagree on some things, and he thinks there should be consequences.





	I Gloat a Bit

Since the night of Anthony’s cookout – the “now-famous cookout,” as Jasmine says – you and Rafael have been seeing a lot of each other. You go out to dinner, spend time with friends, especially Jazzy and Anthony, and just hang out either at your apartment or his, talking for hours and getting to know each other better. You can’t really spend as much time together as you would like – you have a job to go to every day, and he has a mountain of projects underway. He and Daveed recently finished shooting their movie, and now they’re doing all the expected publicity on it, interviews and photoshoots. Of course, everybody already knows Daveed, but now the American public is getting to know Rafa too.

Is your boyfriend getting to be famous? More to the point, is he actually your boyfriend? Jasmine says yes, but you’re not going to let her decide.

Rafa and Daveed have been off in California for a few days, where they made appearances with both Jimmy Kimmel and James Corden. You love watching Rafa on TV, watching him intelligently articulate the problem with gentrification of city neighborhoods and then say something completely ridiculous that cracks Daveed up and has the audience laughing along with them. Of course you know Daveed pretty well by now, because anybody who knows Rafa knows Daveed and vice versa. You understand why they’re such good friends; they think alike on just about every subject, and they share an offbeat sense of humor. Daveed’s a little more easy-going than Rafa, who is driven almost to the point of compulsion. You’re not the only one who tells him he needs to take a break sometimes.

You’ve found out that Rafa’s favorite approach to dealing with stress isn’t actually taking a break, though. He explains to you early on that the best stress-reducer is sex.

You’re okay with that. In fact, you are more than willing to help him with his stress at any time. You’ve probably made love more often in the last couple of months than in your entire previous life. Not only is sex with Rafa frequent, it is fantastic. You never thought of yourself as sexually adventurous until Rafa bent you over a chair and made you come so hard you thought you’d pass out. Not long after that, you were at the movies, a crowded showing of _Wonder Woman_ , and he threw his jacket casually over your lap and finger-fucked you under it, whispering, “Sh, there are children here.” He shifted his attention back and forth between you and the screen, and managed to get the timing right, so that your orgasm came at the exact moment of the loudest explosion, and the whimpers that escaped you went unnoticed. On the way home, you told him, “I’m going to kill you,” and he looked at you sideways from under his eyelashes and said, “Tell me you didn’t love it.”

He was right. You loved it, loved the secret intimacy of it, loved the excitement of having his hand on you in a public place, loved the way he coordinated the soundtrack of the action movie with what he was doing. When you got home, you couldn’t wait to get his clothes off and return the favor, doing everything that you knew he liked best until you had him sweating and swearing at you, and then finally slamming into you so hard you could feel it in your teeth, but you loved that too. He wrapped his arms around you, panting, and said, “Jesus fuck, baby, you said you were going to kill me, but I didn’t think you meant like that.” It made you laugh, but it also made you feel proud of yourself.

That might be the most important thing you’ve learned from Rafael, that good sex is about giving. You see his eyes light up when he does something that makes you feel good, and he always, always makes your pleasure his priority. After your two previous boyfriends, now forever known as stupid Jared and even stupider Drew, this is a revelation.

Rafa likes being good at things; in fact, he’s driven to be the very best at everything he does, including making love.

Strangely enough, that brings about a disagreement.

While Rafa is in California doing publicity for _Blindspotting_ , you download the new Taylor Swift song. No big deal – you know Rafa isn’t a fan, but you’ve always liked Taylor Swift, and you see no reason to change your mind. There’s been a ton of stuff online about “Look What You Made Me Do.” Everybody has an opinion, and it seems that everybody’s opinion is either it’s the best song ever written or it’s trash that should be sent directly to the inner circle of hell, nothing in between. Somehow, you seem to be the only person in the middle; you like it, but you don’t think it’s her best work ever.

You just happen to be listening to it when Rafa gets home. You’re at his apartment waiting for him, and you can’t wait to see him. It’s been nearly a week. You’re wearing an outfit he likes – white skinny jeans with a sea-green wrap top that’s cut low in the front. You’ve also splurged on new underwear, a sheer white lace bra and a matching thong. You’re looking forward to the perfect evening. You know Rafa is going to need to destress the minute he gets home.

He doesn’t even text from the airport, and he shows up earlier than you expect. You’ve got your headphones on so you don’t hear his key in the lock, but you see the door open, and you jump up, yanking the headphones off and throwing your arms around him as he comes in. It feels like forever since you’ve kissed, and he holds the back of your head to keep you in place, sighing as he pulls you in. He tastes like smoke and Tictacs, and his mouth is soft and familiar. His tongue teases your lips open and you press into him, and then realize that the apartment door is still wide open.

“Maybe we should close the door,” you murmur.

“Mm,” he agrees, kicking it shut behind him, and pulling you back for another kiss.

It’s so good to be touching him again, to be close to him, to feel his warmth. You finally break from the kiss just to lean against him, your head on his shoulder, your arms around his waist. He kisses the top of your head and lets out a long breath. “I’ve missed you so much, Y/N.” he says softly.

You give a little hum and snuggle into him. He holds you close and plays with your hair. After a minute, he says, “Let me look at you.”

You take a step back, holding his hands. His gaze goes from your head to your toes and back. “Wow. You are so gorgeous.”

Two months ago, you would have denied the compliment. Now you just enjoy it.

He lifts your arms and spins you around, slides his hand down your back to cup your ass.

“You have got the cutest ass I’ve ever seen,” he tells you, “and those jeans show it off.”

“Wait till you see what I’ve got on underneath,” you say, giving him a smile.

“Oh, Y/N, have mercy. Now I really need to get those jeans off you.”

You start to pull him toward the bedroom, and as you go by the couch, you realize you never turned your music off. “I’ve got a list of names and yours is in red …” comes through clearly. Rafa hears it too and stops suddenly.

“You’re kidding me,” he says.

“What?”

“Tell me you weren’t listening to the new Taylor Swift abomination.”

“You know I like her,” you remind him.

“I know, and I tolerate it, but this song is …”

“You want to send it directly to the inner circle of hell?”

“Exactly.”

“I like it.” You lean over and switch off the music. “You don’t have to listen to it.” You know he’s giving you a hard time just to play around, but you pretend to be annoyed.

“Don’t worry, I won’t.” He’s half smiling, but trying to look stern. “In fact, I’m going to ban the song from my apartment.”

“Oh, really?”

“Really.”

“So I can’t even have it on my playlist if I’m going to listen to music here.”

“Nope, it’s that bad.”

“That’s unreasonable.”

He shrugs.

“And if I leave it on the playlist?”

“There will be consequences.”

It’s so ridiculous you start giggling. “What kind of consequences?”

He raises an eyebrow and strikes a thoughtful pose. “Let’s just say that if you want to be fucked _well_ , you’ll delete the song.”

“If I want to be fucked _well?_ ”

“Mm-hm.”

“You’ve been away for nearly a week, and you’re giving me conditions?”

He holds the pose, trying not to laugh. “Yes.”

“And if I don’t delete the song, you’ll – what, fuck me badly? Incompetently?”

That’s too much for him, and he starts laughing. “Well, maybe not …”

“Then if not well, how?”

He thinks for a minute, then says, “Perfunctorily.”

“You mean what they call ‘Wham, bam, thank you ma'am?’”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“You’re telling me you’re going to punish me by not doing your best for me?” You take a step closer to him and stare into his beautiful ocean-green eyes. “You would never.”

“Why not?” he asks, his face close to yours.

“You take too much pride in your …”

He cuts you off. “Don't you dare say _work_.”

“Accomplishments,” you tell him.

His hair is hanging down the side of his face, and you pull it gently to bring his face close enough to kiss. You kiss his lips softly, then just the corner of his mouth, then the hollow of his throat. He stands very still.

“Rafa,” you whisper, “please fuck me.”

He makes an inarticulate sound deep in his throat, then sweeps you up, and in minutes you’re both on the bed. He kicks his shoes off and throws his shirt on the floor. You have learned that Rafael can get undressed faster than anyone you’ve ever known. He finds the hooks that fasten your shirt, and undoes them one-handed, so that the shirt falls open and he sees the lace bra.

“Oh, Y/N, you dressed up for me,” he murmurs and bends to tongue your nipples through the lace. You arch toward him, pushing into his mouth, and somehow he pulls your shirt off and tosses it to the floor. By the time you unfasten your jeans, his are gone, and you are reaching for him, running your hands down his chest as you kick your jeans off, revealing the white thong that’s nothing more than a scrap of lace and an elastic band.

“Ah, shit,” he says, “I like thongs.”

“So I’ve heard,” you respond, rubbing yourself against him.

“You know why I like them?”

“Why?”

He slides his thumb along the white lace. “Because you don’t even have to take it off. It’s got multiple access points, like here,” his thumb slips under the lace and rubs your clit lightly, “and here,” he continues, pushing a finger inside you. You’re moving against him, whimpering, but he keeps going. “And here,” he adds, pulling the elastic with his other hand to create friction from your ass to your clit.

“Oh, God,” you gasp, “do that again.”

He complies, and keeps doing it, moving his thumb and his fingers at the same time, taking you closer and closer, and then he suddenly pulls away.

“Oh, please don’t stop,” you beg.

“I told you I wasn’t going to fuck you well tonight,” he reminds you, his voice husky. You know he wants it too.

“Well, if you won’t,” you whisper, “I’ll have to.” You put your fingers on your clit and start to rub it. You can’t help it. He’s got you so close that you need to come. Rafa watches, his eyes dark and hooded, and you see how much it arouses him. He gives it a minute, and then he can’t stand it anymore. He pushes your hand away and buries his face between your legs, his tongue flicking against your clit, two fingers pushing inside, and nothing else has ever felt this good. You feel it starting, almost tickling at first like a mild electrical current, and then exploding deep inside you so that your hips buck up into him and he pushes his fingers all the way in, scissoring and circling them to prolong your orgasm. You know you make noise because he has told you that you do, but you have no awareness of it. You know that he likes it, that he likes to hear you, likes to feel you come against his mouth.

He holds you against him as you come down, and as soon as your breathing steadies, you roll on top of him, rubbing against him, sliding slowly down his chest until you can take his cock in your mouth. You close your lips around it, keeping the pressure on it as you move your head up and down. Rafa throws his head back and thrusts his hips up as you continue, your hand massaging the base while your mouth works the rest of it, and he grabs your hair to have something to hold onto. He pulls it, but you like the way it feels, and his hips keep pushing up, and you hear his gasping intake of breath and then, “Ah, fuck! Fuck!” He comes in your mouth, and you do your best to swallow, but you’re always sloppy, so you wipe your hand over your face and then stretch yourself over him, mouth to mouth, body to body. His hands are still twisted in your hair, and you kiss his mouth, his jaw, his throat. You can’t believe how beautiful he is. You can’t believe you get to make love with this man again and again. You pull the blanket up because now it’s cold, and he reaches for his cigarettes. You curl up as you always do, your head on his lap while he smokes quietly. He strokes your hair, runs his thumb gently over your cheekbone. You turn into it and kiss the palm of his hand.

“So what do you think?” he asks. You can hear the smile in his voice.

“I think I have been very well fucked,” you tell him.

He inhales and exhales some more smoke. “One of these days,” he says, “I’ll show you my very best technique.”

“I look forward to it.”

He runs his fingers through your hair. “I was only kidding about the song.”

You smile against his collarbone. “I know.”

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from "Whoville." The inspiration is from Rafael's "Just the Tip," (Episode 4), which is where I also learned that he likes thongs.


End file.
